Iran through my eyes

Checking in with the morality police

The previous instalment covering our adventures in Iran had left Feri and I sitting in the foyer of Hotel Atlas in Shiraz waiting patiently to check in. There didn’t seem to be many people about so I began to wonder why it was taking so long to take details and allocate rooms. I watched couples approach the reception desk, fill in a form and present their identity documents. Nothing unusual there, so I turned to Feri and nonchalantly asked “Have you got the passports?”

“No” came the reply.

I tried again, “Iranian ID card?”

Another “No.”

“Marriage certificate?”

“Erm….no”

“Credit card?”

“No, I brought plenty of cash, why?”

“Because I think that the hotel will need to check our identities and whether we are married before giving us a room”

The Rial then dropped-Kerching! Feri walked across to the lady at the desk. I watched closely as some nodding was going on but worryingly there was a lot more shaking of the heads. Those of you who know Feri will have witnessed that he can usually charm birds off trees but he was unable to convince the Receptionist to give us a room; all because we had no evidence that we were married. She went on to explain that, due to the strict “morality laws” in the region, hotels were unable to allocate rooms to unmarried couples. Further, if the “Morality Police” came to the hotel and checked their records to find that no evidence of our marriage had been obtained, the hotel would be fined.

Mmmm. My mind flew back to the previous evening back in Esfahan when Feri assured me that all was “sorted.” It clearly wasn’t as we were now faced with some unforeseen choices.

We could call our trust driver, Rahmon, and drive home. We quickly decided that this was not feasible as he needed to rest.

We could try to tout round some different hotels to see if we could compromise our morality and grab a room. This plan was not appealing. I can only take so much rejection.

We could go and buy a tent and pitch up in the local park. This is common in Iran but I wasn’t prepared for camping.

After serious consideration of our options we did the only sensible thing and rang Rahmon for his input. Luckily for us, his brother-in-law was a General in the Iranian army and knew exactly what we needed to do. In short, we would have to report to the HQ of the Morality Police in Shiraz, where he would talk to the Chief and all would definitely “be sorted”. Rahmon came to pick us up and off we went to the HQ with Mr General.

I was already feeling a little apprehensive when we found that the entrance to Morality HQ was guarded by soldiers with guns slung over their shoulders. This was rather intimidating but when we explained why we were there they let us into the compound via intercom. I am sure that I heard lots of laughing behind us as the gate closed and could only imagine that the story of our plight had reached them in advance of our arrival. Thankfully we were then escorted to a quiet small office and asked to wait whilst Mr General went in search of Mr Chief.

After ten minutes or so and without any warning in walked a very tall, large gentleman accompanied by a soldier. This was beginning to look quite serious and, if I am honest, a bit over the top for wanting a bed for the night. Big Man, clearly in charge, started to ask Feri questions whilst his assistant wrote everything down. I don’t speak much Farsi, enough to get by, but I do understand a lot more. It soon became clear to Big Man that I understood a lot of what he was saying and he started to soften his very aggressive approach just a little. I could see that Feri was getting riled no doubt annoyed with himself for not bringing our documents and also with the aggressive manner of questioning by Big Man.

During the questioning, Big Man stopped to answer his mobile phone. How rude. When he turned his attention back to us it was clear that Feri had had enough and was getting really cross. It wasn’t helping the situation, and maybe it was the stress of the event and my nerves getting the better of me but I started to laugh. I tried to hide it as I thought I may jeopardise even further the none-too harmonious relations which already existed between Feri and his interrogator. Big Man noticed my laughing and asked what I found so funny. That was scary. I then had to explain, via Feri, that I found it ridiculous at our age and with our travel experience to find ourselves in such a position. It was literally laughable. Big Man thought so too, without the laughing.

I began to understand how Mary and Joseph must have felt when they tried to get a room and at this point I would have been quite happy with a straw bed as long as I was away from this fiasco. We were however starting to progress and it then transpired that the quickest and only way we were get a hotel room in this city was to call Feri’s sister back in Esfahan to obtain our details.

Big Man spoke to her and asked lots of questions about us. Were we really married? When did we get married? Where were the passports? Luckily, she lives next door to us in Esfahan so she was able to fetch our Iranian passports and ID documents and give the details over the phone. We then had to wait whilst they were cross-checked with the relevant authorities. This was a worrying time as it was now 8pm and I wasn’t sure whether anyone would be able to access our records to provide assurance. Morality, however, turns out to be a 24/7 business in Iran and we were given the all clear to enable Big Man to write us a signed authorisation which would allow the hotel to give us a room.

Phew! I was so relieved and we got up ready to leave, but not before we were asked to give some feedback about their way of dealing with things in Iran. Big Man asked whether they were much different from the police at home in the UK. I replied that I had no idea but I found him very aggressive in the circumstances as we hadn’t committed a heinous crime, we just wanted a hotel room and further, I thought it very rude that he took a phone call in the middle of our conversation. I’m not sure Feri thought this was a good time to get on my high-horse but the Big Man did ask. He took it all in his stride however and escorted us all out of the compound with his good wishes.

I would like to bet that he had a good chuckle about our adventure that evening.

I can laugh now, but rest assured I will be carrying my passport with me everywhere in future.